Candy Isn't Always Sweet
by BlackNevermore
Summary: I decided that this site needed a RWBY bar and cafe based story, so here you go. Wordplay, humor, and a third standalone perspective on the conflict between Ruby's little clan, and Cinder's faction. Enjoy.
1. Chapter 1

"Candy isn't always sweet, Ruby. I personally enjoy something a bit more bitter; having sugar all the time makes it a norm, and thus no longer special. If your tastes are only for sugar, then I can do nothing else, than accuse you of having something along the lines of a monochromatic life."

Naturally, he would be making to serve the same Ruby a large mug of hot chocolate teeming with marshmallows. If the hand which brought this drink wasn't so skilled at doing so, Ruby might have made to smite that same hand along with its tongue.

"David, just because you own and run this little café, it doesn't mean you get to chide me about my ordering choices. I pay you to make me warm drinks."

With amusement creeping into the voice of the sole owner and server of the café, came a most truthful reminder.

"Actually, it's because anyone else would call up Beacon, and tell them that you're skipping your after lunch with your Heiress friend. Seriously, girl, if you aren't making Miss Moneybags over there pay for your drinks, then you need to look over your life choices."

As the only other customers within the small though popular café, Both Ruby and Weiss found themselves alone with the well-dressed David. Within a few hours, classes and work would end for many, and the café's regular patrons would overrun the small little shop for its drinks, sandwiches, and deserts. Too popular to ever host private bookings, even with Weiss's kind of money, one's only luck to enjoy the relaxed atmosphere of the café with virtually nobody else around was to come when nobody else could.

Exchanging after exchanging an amused glance, both Ruby and Weiss made to continue the sparing match with the witty David over snacks, and warm, sweet things to drink. But what made the two girls want to consistently come to the shop owned by the rather young man came to a combination of things. Perhaps the only person that ever worked there conformed to their definition of attractive, and perhaps the air of the café and its delicious foodstuffs made for a cozy home-like atmosphere. Perhaps the thrill of breaking school rules had its fun and flair, and the notion of having to themselves such a popular meeting place carried a level of satisfaction.

Truth be told, the well-spoken and dressed charismatic owner of this shop was a person of masks. Smiling, stirring, offering a golden laugh and distraction from the academic life of these students was nothing less than a well-rehearsed act. While the dark haired David surely wasn't a criminal in his own eyes, he stood to see himself as a well-rounded businessman. This song and dance for the two girls may at times become tedious, but meant that he would constantly have these two as loyal, very well paying customers in his quaint little shop of food and drink.

Another day in the life of a man who carries nothing but good intentions for his clientele, changing those masks according to whoever would want to pay him. A potentially flirty, always sunny waiter for those who want it. A good conversation, for the male variant of the previous customer type. Someone who didn't ask questions, and silently granted alcohol in the drinks for those who paid under the table during the daylight, followed by a change of hat during the evening. For the night, a variably lit bar of neutral grounds would always make a great place for the more experienced, discrete smuggler and information dealer to operate: these criminals were skilled at repelling suspicion, making for the best business David could ask for – The cut of all sales which David demanded was small, and acceptable in the eyes of the various dealers.

But that would be something for a later hour of this day. David would paint for these girls which were not too far from his own age, a unique picture that rewarded him with a unique place in the community. Not everyone could swing from both sides of the legal fence, and enjoy all the benefits.

"You've really become bold, for a self-employed serving boy. The only thing that saves you in the end, is that I'm the one owing money rather than you."

Weiss could make her accurate jests at David, and Ruby could satisfy her addiction to sugar. He would cater to their individual, random, unique orders and bequests for the deserts which he could prepare, and he would make whatever drink he needed to keep them paying and happy.

"Come on Weiss, be nice. He isn't Jaune, you can't exactly verbally abuse him as though he were a masochist."

After a morsel of chocolate cake and laughter, Weiss would answer Ruby's defense of the server.

"I wasn't sure about that masochist part myself, we need to test that one. Any ideas, that won't lead the idiot into more bodily harm than needed?"

As the two teenage girls began their sucrose fueled decent into gossip, David would continue to maintain his façade of interest, while resisting the urge to yawn. He would simply have to hold on until the evening, when things would overcome the drab inertia of day to day gossip, bland customers, coffee, cake, and hot chocolate.

With the evening comes an intoxicating force, of always unique faces, never legal exchanges, teenagers that really shouldn't be out so late, the buzz of alcohol in both its hard shots and gentle cocktails, the odd notorious visitor, and that entertainment which this all brings… The momentum of the night always overwhelms the cold sunlight.


	2. Chapter 2

If David was any other person, he would loathe the process involving the evening setup. Rolling away the false, reinforced wall that kept the mainstay of his alcohol out of reach and view during daylight hours. Putting some cake, and other sweets into the kitchen oven, to ensure that the fresh baked goods always stayed fresh. Wiping down the counter which had been quickly converted into a bar, through the use of a simple hydraulic system which decided the height of the main counter. Because instant bars are just so kawaii.

The chore of transition always stood to give David a level of elation. It would replace the boredom of the day with anticipation and boyish excitement, as the nightlife would finally soon begin… And what a crescendo the symphony that the dark would bring! With its gradually intensifying wave of intrigue, David would come alive, free from the living drudgery which the regular daylight customers would bring. Make no mistake, both periods of service had their regulars which sought the material sustenance that the quaint little shop provided, and the day did bring the odd writer, poet, or musician… But, it simply wasn't the same.

A spark of movement would catch the eye of the man which now transitioned from the occupation of a waiter, to the vocation of the bartender. Someone had opened the door, pulling him from the daydream of occupational contrasts which painted the picture of his life; though David now no longer had a need for dreaming. He would live that dream, even if just during the night.

A myriad of colour began to ebb and weave as a constant mural of ever changing shapes, perhaps a small group of eccentric smugglers were to soon enter? The frosted glass which made for the large pane windows of the cafe and bar offered such good entertainment. Perhaps it was an overactive imagination, teasing the bartender with a notion of what the night may present, or maybe a desire for something stunning to shatter the panes of glass. Reality for the bartender had always seemed like countless layers of ice, with each sheet hiding a new revelation of life.

David's high expectations began to slip through cracks, as Blake, Ruby, Yang, and Weiss became the first to step through the door.

"Hey barkeep! I need something strong, Ice Queen may have a nicer attitude with a less sober composure, the little girl is a no fly for anything hard, and hair of the dog for the girl in black."

The demand from Yang would be met with a light laugh from the bartender, as he made to adjust his collar.

"Explain to me in why I want you four in this place while it's a bar. Yes, I'll play the underage card if I have to. I do remember Junior saying something about a rather expensive renovation after one of your visits, Yang, bartenders all exchange information in this town."

Batting her eyes, Yang attempted to appeal to David's masculine side. Leaning against the bar, she made to angle her bust without any regard for subtlety, bringing her rack downrange of the barmaster's eyes.

"Oh please, you love me."

A stale look from David left no doubt that any superficial tactic wouldn't work in this situation.

"Do me a favor, Yang, and put some clothes on. Out of all the bartenders the four of you could have heckled, why me? Did _Blondie_ here get you all banned from every other scene in Vale?"

The use of the name _Blondie_ left no doubt that Junior had David's ear. None of the four really could have blamed the business owner for preferring to keep the busty troublemaker at arm's length – One of Yang's visits to Junior's little oasis resulted in some structural damage, and not just to Junior's front door.

Lowering her voice, Yang discreetly made their intentions a little clearer.

"Fine, someone we're in someone passing though this place."

Raising an eyebrow, David found himself genuinely surprised.

"Buying information? Really? You four?"

Hesitantly, the schoolgirls began to nod. David had to now make an effort, to hide his current thoughts. He became genuinely impressed, as few people came her to barter for knowledge in this little rumor mill, with only the more hardcore ever coming to seek out valuable information of the underworld. Either that, or they had a bone to pick with someone.

Slowly caving into their request, the dark haired bartender pressed a hand to the side of his head to adjust some of his long locks which had fallen to obscure his vision. They were regular daytime customers, who wouldn't be in any hurry to find themselves banned. Everything should be fine, right?

"Under the condition that none of you are out to hurt, or help in the arrest of anyone…"

Gesturing to his left, David pointed to a well-lit table which he could easily keep a careful eye on.

"All four of you are to stay there, and only ever head to the washroom in pairs. Any trouble at all, and you let me handle it, okay? No wall breaking?"

After some moderately enjoyable wordplay, and the preparation of the snacks and drinks that the girls decided to buy, David led the four students to the preferred table with foodstuffs on a platter. There was one thing that the 'barkeep' had noticed, it being a sort of cold, withdrawn note which both Ruby and Weiss played on, which David couldn't help but find as being suspicious.

Wiping down the counter with a clean cloth, he made to busy himself, ignoring the feeling which made an adamant suggestion that David did not enjoy. He didn't want to find himself lied to, could they really be out for someone's head?


	3. Chapter 3

The café had always been something that David never could do that one thing for. In this case the one thing happened to be the honor of a name. It was simply the fact that a name would give the cafe a face, and that's something this rather unique owner wanted to avoid at all costs. When a person thinks of a name, they instantly apply some degree of preconception to the subject. By keeping the place void of a name, David had created a location that could be anything for anyone, capable of catering to any taste.

It was that namelessness which gave David the ability to make his shop of foods and drinks as dynamic as it stood to be.

Time now beginning to thin at this intrepid corner of the earth, a later hour now showing on the clock, the crowd less dedicated to the late nights and questionable enterprises had dissipated. Replaced by a more hardline element, David found himself carefully looking over the establishment. This is the part of the life that David lived for, the page in the storybook that he was proud to be printed on. The time when, the place where decisions are made that shift the territories of major gangs, where commodities of all types are exchanged in the dark, loyalties bought and sold, lives bartered and broken, constituting the heartbeat of a world that many people would rather refuse to acknowledge. It also happened to be the time of the day when David made the most money, through his little tariff on goods and information, and the serving of alcohol.

Perhaps it made for something sadistic, this dark little bar. Something disgusting. If David believed in sin by participation, then he would confess to being eternally hell bound. However, this is the part of reality which made David enthralled with every moment of participation, a buzz of elation greater than that which could be found in any drink, or sandwich.

The place stood under David's total control, at least, with the exception of team RWBY. As the only potential wildcard of the evening, he knew that he couldn't slack on his surveillance of the girls. Smiling gently as Ruby began to reel from what seemed like her first shot of whisky, the bartender made to crack his back. The nineteen year old bartender had no issues with the girls simply using the place to eventually meet a friend, it was something that this little café of the day, and bar of the night tended to be used for at times.

Once again, there seemed to be a microrush for drinks, and David found himself filling orders of alcohol. Soon enough, he found himself facing a student, seeking to buy the liquid poison which these kids certainly have had enough of.

"That's a no go, Blake, I'm cutting the four of you off. Weiss actually seems to have gotten far friendlier than usual, and that certainly can't be anything good."

With that student in question being, indeed, Blake, the bartender found his eyes locked with hers. David was by no means thrilled with being held in a death glare by an angry drunk, but he knew better than to back down. If some liqueur could bring to this, more liqueur would make for a nightmare.

"Nothing alcoholic. Don't make this get ugly."

Settling for an assortment of simpler beverages, the cat Faunus retreated to the table which contained her friends. When the news spread among the other three, it became visibly clear that the group was displeased. So be it, the bartender certainly had to ensure that his visitors were sober enough to walk home.

Just when he was about to lean back let his eyes shut for just one brief moment, the front door swung open. The room had suddenly shifted from a loose, lightly talkative atmosphere, to a thick quagmire of nearly palatable tension. Roman Torchwick had matched onto the stage, flanked by no other person than Neo.

With a dramatic, languid, open armed shrug, the male interloper spun his cane once before taking a stand in the middle of the room.

"Ladies, Gentlemen…"

Pausing for the moment to glance over at Ruby, Weiss, Yang, and Blake; a light sneer made to leave an impression on the rogue's lips.

"… Others. God, this is awkward. To think I only came here for a box of cigars and a drink. I hate exercise, Neo, particularly on my day off."

There stood to be a fair number of people here who would jump at the chance to take a swing at Roman, people that were only waiting for someone to lead the charge. However, many of David's customers benefited from Torchwick's mere presence, with a few more people even owing the cane swinging dandy a favor or two. As team RWBY stood from their table, drawing weapons, the next words and actions would sap any momentum that the schoolgirls had in their favor.

"Just cigars and a drink? That's become such a habit for you, that I'm inclined to believe it."

Reaching under the counter, the bartender pulled out and brandished a heavy automatic military rifle. Loading a dust magazine, the sound of the bolt snapping into its firing position was more than enough to break the brief silence. Every eye now came to rest on the disappointed and displeased bartender.

"Whereas these ladies here have already made a mess of my evening, on their first night here. Plus, there's that little sting that comes from being lied to, it just doesn't sit right."

Weiss trying to be the one behind the sane sounding excuse, made to open her mouth. However, David again took command of the situation, stopping the Heiress dead, mid-syllable. The storeowner's expression and eyes made for a crippling glance, ensuring that the young heiress wouldn't try to speak over the displeased bartender. As the rifle in David's arms began to level in the direction of those student enforcers, the shift from a stalemate to a checkmate became as tasteful as a double malt whisky.

Nobody wanted to be banned from the Bar. Thus, nobody wanted to act against David, no matter how much any of the visitors hated or loved Torchwick. Furthermore, nobody could accuse the bartender of being one of Torchwick's associates, as the bar policy was simply to favor the regulars in just about every situation.

Finally moving to disarm the situation, David presented his ultimatum.

"Alright girls, sit back down and put those toothpicks away, or just get out."


End file.
